


You're My Leading Lady, Baby

by hostagesfic



Category: Little Mix (Band), One Direction (Band)
Genre: F/M, implied protection via the pill, minor crossdressing
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-12-04
Updated: 2012-12-04
Packaged: 2017-11-20 08:10:52
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,611
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/583164
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/hostagesfic/pseuds/hostagesfic
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Zayn, to be honest, has been trying to ignore the fact that he’s still wearing the lace pants. It’s distracting and it’s <i>strange</i>, and it’s almost too nice, so he’s just been attempting to ignore them and focus on her. But he can’t ignore <i>Perrie</i>.</p>
            </blockquote>





	You're My Leading Lady, Baby

**Author's Note:**

> Warnings for minor crossdressing, a tiny bit of powerplay, and implied protection via the pill but no condoms. A lot of porn. No really. This is just porn. I think we wore all our feelings out on ABWSL. Largely written because last week P said something about putting Zayn in panties and then Perrie showed up in NYC with purple hair. Please note: _we picked purple first._

"They're too small," Zayn whines from behind the door, and Perrie rolls her eyes. "Well, they're not granny knickers, love, they're bikini cut and they should fit more than fine, yeah? 're you trying to say your bottom's bigger'n mine there?" 

"No, they- _Pez,_ " and his voice goes all indignant and squeaky.

"Let's see you then, come on!" Perrie insists, knocking sharp little raps on the door as Hatchi hops around her feet barking. "I bet they look darling, love, really."

Zayn swears under his breath and tugs the door open because it's not like he can stay in there forever. He's still wearing his shirt, just his jeans discarded, and his face is meltingly hot when he takes a tiny step forward for Perrie to inspect him. He has to fight the impulse to cover himself up, fisting his hands at his sides instead. "They're. Just."

"Oh, they." Perrie bites her lip, looking up from Zayn's shins to his knees to his thighs to- to the pretty lavender of the pants, the way the narrow, glittered waistband stretches across Zayn's narrow, jutting hips; the way the dainty little bow at the front is pushed out because- because Zayn's put them on with his dick tucked under the waistband, barely peeking out the top and outlined perfectly in light cotton, framed by the lace insets.

Zayn shifts uncomfortably, and Hatchi has wandered off to the kitchen so there's nothing to look at but Perrie, nothing to distract him from the fact that they're just standing here without saying anything.

Perrie clears her throat a little, curls her toes a little in her slippers. "You look really, really good in those, Zayn," she says, a little breathy, a little giggly. "I told you they'd fit, yeah? Could- would you turn for me, love?" She draws an invisible circle in the air with her finger, wide-eyed.

Zayn does so, hands playing at the hem of his shirt, and when he gets back around it's a relief to escape her gaze momentarily as he tugs the shirt off, drops it. when he does look up, she's flushed and her lower lip is trembling almost imperceptibly- and he steps forward, drawing her in with hands at her waist, grinding their hips together, tipping his forehead against hers.

"Quit it," Perrie laughs, but doesn't really mean it much. She hooks her chin over his shoulder to peek down at the curve of his spine, at his arse and what's exposed of it in the panties. She brings a hand around him and squeezes his bum, which makes him yelp, and her decide this was a brilliant, brilliant idea.

Zayn makes a tiny growling noise, tips his head to the side to run his mouth down her neck. "So you're just goin' t'look at me, then?"

Perrie's fingernails dig into Zayn's bum through the pants and she shakes her head, "No, love, I'm gonna get you messy."

It might be a little silly if anyone were watching, but Zayn doesn't give a shit, this is for them, and he'll do what he wants- he clasps his hands under her bum and lifts her up, carries her to the bed, still mouthing at her neck, laughing a little at her indignant squirming.

"I'm in charge, cheeky!" Perrie yelps, punching at his back playfully. Zayn drops her on the bed and she squints up at him, makes grabby hands, eyeing his crotch.

"You're always in charge," Zayn says, runs his hand up her calf, thumbing at the soft spot behind her knee as he crawls onto the bed between her legs on his knees.

Nodding, Perrie slips a hand into his hair and pulls him in for an open-mouthed kiss. She smoothes her other hand down Zayn's chest as they kiss, traces down his breastbone and ghosts across his ribs, plays at the trickle of dark hair under his bellybutton.

Perrie tastes sweet and slightly of the honey they'd gotten sticky with snacking on pita earlier, and Zayn sucks on her lower lip carefully, lets her lead the kiss. Her hands are feather-light moving down his body, and it almost tickles, but his cock is too hard in the lace and cotton of the pants for him to find it funny.

"Hey," Perrie says, breaking away long enough to say the word and then diving back in for a nip at his upper lip, "Take off the edge? Hm?" She glances down their bodies pointedly, hand finally, finally reaching Zayn's crotch and only giving him a squeeze over the pants before moving to her own, pressing the heel of her hand down at the front of her shorts.

Zayn doesn't have time to react to her touch, but he inhales harshly when she takes her hand away, shuts his eyes tightly for a moment. "Yeah," he whispers, "yeah, babe, what do you want?"

Perrie leans in to nose at the hair above his ear, teeth grazing her lip before asking, soft and deceitfully innocent, “Think you could use your mouth, love?”

Zayn bites a small, sucking kiss into the soft spot below her jaw, leans back to look at her. "Yeah." She looks pleased, and he backs down between her legs again, grabs at her waist and rearranges her further up the mattress, deftly works the zipper of her shorts. She's humming something under her breath, and Zayn presses his face to her stomach, kissing through her tee-shirt, and hooks a finger in her panties, pulls them aside and slides it right on in, crooking it upwards and savoring her choked-off noise.

Zayn twists his hand to try to get his finger deeper, but it's awkward with her underwear bunching up in the crotch of her shorts, and her zipper is biting at the back of his hand. He pulls away reluctantly, gripping the hems of her shorts instead and working them down her thighs. And he knows she said- but. "Wanna fuck you," he says, and glances up at her hopefully.

Perrie licks her lips, lifting her legs a little to help Zayn. She can’t help smiling a bit- they’re both wearing her panties, matching from the waist down in complementary lavender and creamsicle orange, and she has to press her lips in a tight line, take a deep breath. “Will you be nice?” she asks, pulling him in once he’s discarded her shorts to run her fingertips across his stubbly jaw.

Zayn's face crinkles up and he honestly doesn't know what to say for a moment, blinks at her. It's getting hard to think, with her so close and responsive under him, and the head of his cock has shifted and is straining against one of the lace inserts of the pants now, and it's almost too much, and he has to shake his head to clear it- "I- yes? Aren't I- I try- always?"

“You are,” Perrie giggles, slipping her thumbs under her waistband and tugging her panties down, jerking her chin at him to help her. “Whoever decided you’d be the bad boy was horribly wrong,” she says fondly. “I’ll ride you, yeah? But first.”

Zayn knows that his face falls, can't help it, but he nods, and helps guide her feet out of the legholes of her underwear, spreads his palms at the insides of her thighs and presses them apart. "Only want me for m'tongue," he mutters, squirming onto his stomach and mock-glaring up at her.

“Don’t forget your dashing good looks,” Perrie nods, lifting her knees and spreading her legs further.

"Mmm," Zayn nods, and gets distracted in just looking at her- the sheen of sweat below her belly button and in the creases of her thighs, the glossy pink of her mouth above him and how it's reflected between her legs.

Zayn presses his smile into the soft, smooth rise of skin just above her clit, tips his head down and laps at her once, twice and then just presses his tongue flat against her, holds still.

"Oh, that's.” Perrie groans, hips jerking a little and fingers curling against her stomach and into the sheets at her sides.

Zayn slides his hands down her thighs to where her arse just starts to curve, and squeezes her tight. When he drops his jaw to suck at her, wet and enthusiastic, he can't help moaning at the first real taste of her. And he'd feel bad about abandoning her clit, but he's too busy leaning down to lick at her cunt, suck at her there too, needing more.

Perrie inhales sharply and makes a sound at the back of her throat, high-pitched and needy. “Yes, yeah, shit, Z, please-”

Zayn can't really breathe, but he honestly can't be fucked to worry about that now. He can feel his cock twitching out precome against the lace of his underwear- the friction hurts, and it's the only reason he's not grinding himself off against the mattress right now- but it's good, it's okay. He can do this for her. He presses his tongue just barely inside her and shudders, has to pull back and move up to her clit again. It's too good, too tempting, to fuck her with his mouth, but he wants to wait. So he closes his lips over her clit instead, hollows his cheeks like he's- like that, and flicks his tongue over her quickquickquick.

“Fuck,” Perrie gasps, curling her fingers tightly into Zayn’s hair and lifting her head off the mattress to look down at him. Zayn knows so well exactly how to bring her off quick and get what he wants, and Perrie doesn’t even care that she ends up coming too quickly with his name on her lips.

Zayn can _feel_ when it hits her, and he’s never understood why guys would accept girls lying about it, because isn’t the _point_ to be that you can tell? He takes a certain pride in it, anyway, the way her thighs squeeze around his shoulders and her stomach heaves with how hard she’s breathing through it, and he can feel the flutter of it against his tongue and. He grins up at her, relaxing his grip on her arse to bring his hands up, smooth at her thighs soothingly. “Hi.”

“That was _mental,_ ” Perrie says, eyes all too wide for someone who’s just fallen apart so thoroughly. She gives Zayn’s hair one last quick tug, beckoning him with her other hand, and when he crawls up her body she pulls him in for a deep, long kiss, chasing the taste of herself out of his mouth.

Zayn moans and slides a hand behind her neck, twisting his fingers into the hair at her nape and tipping her head back, sucking at her tongue. His other hand is pressed to her hip, but he slides it up, rucking her shirt with the heel of his palm up her ribs. It’s not entirely unexpected when he slips under her tee and realizes she’s not wearing a bra, and he laughs against her mouth, has to pull away to grin at her. 

“Did you honestly, seriously think I’d be wearing one, love?” Perrie rolls her eyes at him, lifting her head to peck his lips. “Comes off as soon as we get in, if I have a say in it,” she declares, and if his fond look is anything to go by, Zayn doesn’t have any objections.

“Always a nice s’prise,” Zayn shrugs, and leans down, pulling her shirt up so he can press his face into her chest, suck kisses at the soft dip between her boobs. 

Perrie giggles, pushing at his shoulders ineffectually, and tries her best not to get carried away. She has important business with Zayn’s knickers. “Come on, love, how’re you doing? Let’s see you, yeah?”

Zayn, to be honest, has been trying to ignore the fact that he’s still wearing the lace pants. It’s distracting and it’s strange, and it’s almost too nice, so he’s just been attempting to ignore them and focus on her. But he can’t ignore _Perrie,_ and he leans back onto his knees so she can look like she wants. 

There’s a dark spot at the edge of one of the lace inserts, and when Zayn sits on his heels his cockhead pokes out of the waistband, flushed dark and wet. Perrie licks her lips subconsciously, puts a hand on his hip and gives him a stern look to keep him still, and curls up in front of him with her head down in his lap. She covers the outline of his prick with her mouth through the cotton, presses her tongue flat against it until she can taste him more than the clean, soft fabric, making her way up his shaft slowly until she can kiss the head gently, run her tongue along the slit, and sit back up. 

Through it all, Zayn has been frozen, his only movement to bring one hand up to pet at her hair, feather light. When she looks up at him, his eyes are closed, lower lip bitten between his teeth. 

It takes a second for him to open his eyes, and then he smiles, tightly. “Like it?”

“It’s lovely,” she nods, sets her teeth on her lower lip before asking lightly, “D’you think you could lie back with them on?”

Zayn nods, folds onto his knees and then shifts so he can fall back onto his elbows, still watching her face for approval. “Good?”

“Brill,” Perrie smiles, and straddles his legs. “‘s’it good like this, babe?”

Zayn stares at her, the visual and the words not computing for a hot second, and she raises her eyebrows, gets him stammering, “Not- not even. Like, inside? I- I mean. I guess?”

It’s a miracle when Perrie doesn’t fall off his lap in a fit of giggles, bringing a hand up to wipe at the tears forming in the corners of her eyes. “Babe, oh my god,” she says, hiccuping, and Zayn’s little frown does nothing to help her settle down. “I mean, if you like? I was thinking you could, y’know, push ‘em aside, but whatever you fancy, yeah?”

Zayn huffs and tucks his fingers under her ribs, digging in a little. “Yeah, no thanks? Shit, Pez, that’s not funny.” But he’s smiling a little too, her giggles contagious. “I _honestly_ thought you meant just like this.”

“I don’t think that’d be nearly as much fun, no,” Perrie shakes her head, leaning down with palms flat on his chest to peck his lips. “Think you can keep ‘em on, then? I suppose if you want you could slide them down to your thighs?” She chews on her lip, a little distracted- she’s still wet and warm, has to focus to keep from just rutting against Zayn’s thigh.

Zayn nods, kisses at her throat as she leans back. “You want me to keep ‘em on.” Her face is flushed and she closes her eyes, nods back. Zayn presses his palm to the inside of her thigh, nudges her up and fumbles with the pants. He ends up stretching the leg hole out with his thumb, peeling it aside and nudging his cock free. It’s awkward, looks funny, with the lace bunched up on one side of his prick, and it’s tight at the base, pinching a little, but it’ll work. 

Perrie licks her lips subconsciously, wraps slight fingers around Zayn’s cock and gives him a few dry strokes- and it’s at this point, always, that she’s thankful she can be responsible in the mornings so they don’t have to worry as much now. “Good, then?” she asks, voice the kind of low and challenging she only lets out around him.

“You?” Zayn tries to keep his voice steady, but it’s a tall order when Perrie has let him go to rub fingertips at herself, shifting on his thighs. There’s a box of condoms in the bedside table, just in case, and he doesn’t like being pushy, likes leaving it up to her. 

She’s not about to stop, though, and they’re safe enough- “Yeah, yeah,” Perrie nods quickly, moves forward on her knees the slightest bit with a hand at his hip.

Zayn grabs her hand, squeezes gently, “Y’need lube?”

“Think y’took care of that with your mouth,” Perrie smiles, pupils blown so there’s only a narrow ring of blue around them.

Zayn chokes a little, grabs for a pillow to stuff behind his neck- “Fuck, babe.” He leaves one hand on top of hers at his hip, settles the other on her hip and keeps his eyes on her. 

Sucking on her bottom lip, Perrie takes a deep breath and guides Zayn’s cock, the head nudging in slowly as she sinks down, legs shaky and eyes falling shut. She keeps her hand close, fingertips pushed against the bunched-up lavender fabric and thumb reaching a little to brush across her clit as Zayn’s prick bottoms out, finally exhaling before shifting once again, canting forward, squeezing around Zayn to test the waters.

Eyes still closed, Perrie smiles, rocking in Zayn’s lap. She can feel Zayn’s thighs shuddering, his fingertips digging into her hipbone, nearly overpowering the familiar yet still surprising feeling of the panties- _her_ panties- brushing against her inner thighs and her cunt when she shifts down on Zayn’s dick. “Feels so good,” she says, followed by a soft moan as she angles herself differently.

Zayn leans up to kiss her blindly, eyes not quite able to stay open, and she giggles breathlessly against his mouth. “D’you- can you. Slow down, yeah? Not all’ve us’ve already come, an’.” He has to leave off the words to let his head fall back into the pillow, bite his lip. It’s too good, overwhelming, and yeah, he really needs her to slow down. 

“What a bore,” she tuts, but slows her rocking, smiling down at him smugly. 

Zayn opens his eyes long enough to roll them at her, and he grabs at her hips, thumbs into the hollows of the bones and lets his fingers squeeze at her ass, tip her forward. “Just- stay- a minute,” he mumbles, “Yeah?”

Perrie nods and slows to a full stop, lowers herself over him with hands on either side of his neck until she can just drop her chest onto his, slip her fingers into his soft hair and place little kisses at the corner of his mouth. Zayn hums and tips into a proper kiss, both their mouths parting simultaneously, tongues meeting and circling each other slowly.

“Yeah,” Zayn breathes, sucks at Perrie’s lower lip and then closes his teeth over it gently. It’s good just being this close, a relief to have her this close. Sometimes he misses her so acutely it’s like he’s missing a rib, like his lungs can’t hold themselves up these days. And it’s so, so good just to melt into the moment, enjoy the weight of her, the warmth of her against him, over him. He moves his hands slowly against her sides, slowing at the top of her ribs to thumb at the curve of her boobs, and again at her hips to palm back to her ass. And through it all, he can feel the lace pants caught between them, softrough _new_ and prompting the sluggish curl of heat to twist up in his stomach. 

Perrie kisses him until her lips tingle, until she feels soft and boneless and warm all over. Their kiss lulls off until they’re just breathing against each other and she can mumble against his mouth, “I think this was a really, really good idea.”

She shifts her hips a little against his, then, experimental, watching for a reaction- perhaps approval- to fall into a slow rhythm again, still close.

“Really good,” Zayn mutters, and Perrie grins because she can tell he doesn’t know what he’s referring to, her comment or this moment or just her. “Really, _really_ good, Pez.” His hands on her hips tighten and then release, and then he pulls her up, her boobs pressing against his chest, their mouths bumping until she’s whining, “You’re gonna-” He just grins against her lips, lifts his knees a little for leverage as he pushes her back down on his prick. 

“Well, _fuck,_ ” Perrie huffs, tugging at the hair at Zayn’s crown. He’s more in control, like this, can pull her into him as hard as he wants and push up harder, and her clit grinds against the pants on every other thrust, little sparks that bring her closer to a second orgasm.

“Mmmf,” Zayn agrees, tipping his hips up as she sinks back down, and he’s managed to distract himself until now from the fact that he can feel her, every shift and tensing of her body, the truth of her words earlier, that he’d _taken care of her_ with his mouth and it’s- it’s not the slick, easy wet of lube, but it’s better, the way her heat clutches at him, drags a little on every roll of his hips. 

Perrie moans as Zayn picks up his pace, lifts his knees a little higher, cradling her arse in his hips. All she can do is spread her legs a little wider, push herself down a little farther despite Zayn’s hands, rutting against his groin through the cotton and lace. “I’m-” she tries, panting, “Z, c’mon, _oh_ -”

“Fuck,” Zayn chokes out, wraps one arm around her so he can spread his palm at the small of her back, just above her ass, and press her down as he grinds up. “What, babe.”

“Please,” Perrie whines, and Zayn lifts his hips enough to set his feet flat on the bed for leverage, grind up as he pushes her down hard, and in quick succession- two, three more thrusts- she comes with her nose pressed into his hair, cheek on the pillow next to him, muscles faltering and shaking.

Zayn pets at her back, reaches up to brush the sweaty hair off her shoulders, and rubs at the wings of her shoulderblades with his fingertips, traces down her spine. It makes her shiver and laugh breathlessly, squirming on top of him, and he turns his face so he can kiss her cheek, nuzzle his nose against hers in an exaggerated eskimo kiss. Her body is stretched tight, nearly humming with energy, and Zayn has to exhale harshly, rub his knuckles at her ribs. He can’t say anything, as much as he’d like to, _so pretty, gorgeous, babe, love you, yeah,_ but if he lets himself it’ll be something embarrassing, _please let me- I need to-_ and he doesn’t want to ruin her moment.

Perrie’s voice is rough when she speaks again, challenging. “C’mon, then,” she says, lifts her arse a little and moves down again, physically wavering yet determined. She glances down the second time she lifts up, and although she can’t see too well she sets her teeth on Zayn’s neck anyway, “I already got your knickers wet, ‘s your turn, love, yeah?”

Her mouth on his skin is hothothot and Zayn lets go with her words, rocks up against her like he’s been wanting, letting the momentum bounce her a little. He trusts her to say if he gets too rough this soon, but the way her mouth works around his name, panting, reassures him they’re both good. It takes him awhile to get the words out. “‘d rather get- you wet,” he manages, twisting his face and tucking his chin so he can watch her eyes as she gets it.

“Cheeky,” Perrie whimpers, tips into a languid kiss, uneven and shaky from his thrusts, breathing against each other’s mouth with her tongue tracing Zayn’s lips more than anything. “C’mon, Z,” she repeats, squeezes around him, “come on, babe.”

If it were encouragement, it’s not like he’d need it- the way she’s _everywhere,_ hair in their faces, mouth on his, fingers digging into his shoulders, heat radiating off her body and how she’s giving fuck-all regard to the pace he’d set with his hands on her hips and is just fucking herself on him, now- but it’s not encouragement, it’s a _command,_ even when her voice is breathy and weak, and Zayn nods urgently, presses his face into her collarbone and comes, hard.

Perrie would cheer if she weren’t preoccupied with riding Zayn’s orgasm out, bouncing in his lap through his erratic thrusts up, squeezing down on him when she can _feel_ him pulsing inside, filling her. She struggles to lift herself up, to pull away so she can watch his face, the way his eyebrows furrow upward and his mouth, lips the prettiest swollen pink, falls open as he lets out a stream of groans and whines, all for her, because of her. “Jus’ like that,” she says, sweet as ever, trails her fingertips down his chest, over ink and pretty golden-olive skin.

Zayn squeezes his eyes shut to the visual of her triumphant, _beautiful_ smile, her bright lips and sharp teeth and her hair curling up over her cheekbones, and it’s great, it’s fantastic, but the problem with Perrie is that she always makes him want more. His head is spinning when he pushes himself up on one elbow, his other arm tight around her waist, “lemme, um, shit-” and it’s worth the effort for the surprised giggle she lets out when he flips them, rolling her onto her back and settling between her legs for the last lazy fucks of his hips, kisses her face distractedly. 

When he’s down to barely rocking into her, Perrie smiles up at him, tired and sweaty and endeared. “You’ve worn yourself out, babe,” she says, thumbing at his jaw.

“Don’ look so innocent,” he breathes, tips his forehead against hers and winces at how their skin slides a little against each other. “Love you,” he adds, blinking until he can focus on her eyes, so, so bright, and tiredly presses their matching smiles together. “Can I-?” 

Perrie hums, shifts her hips a little and nods, finally. “Go ‘head, sweets,” she chirps, one hand darting down to snap the pants at his hip. Zayn pulls out carefully, hums an “ow,” belatedly, once he’s on his knees, and before he can move any further, Perrie stops him with a hand on his knee.

“Stay there for a min,” Perrie instructs him, sits up with her legs still around him and gives him a cautious look before bringing her hands down to where there’s a red outline of the waistband on his hip. She chews on her lip, thumbing at the mark, and then lets her gaze stray to his softening cock, still pushed through one of the legs. Without much thought she pulls the elastic and tucks him back into the pants, spotted damply with their come- he doesn’t fit perfectly, but it’s slightly easier now that he’s not hard, his prick still outlined, still showing a little through the lace. “There,” she breathes. “Always did love that colour. Don’t you?”

Zayn whines, high and tired in the back of his throat, fumbles to grab her hand and pull her back down beside him on the bed. They curl together instinctively, and he noses through the hair above her temple. “‘s lovely,” he says. “look better on you, though.”

;

When she shows up at his hotel door in New York, Zayn nearly swallows his tongue along with the words he had planned, the _I love you’s_ and _missed you’s_ and _thank you for coming’s_ \- and Perrie just laughs, kisses the surprise out of his mouth and pulls one of his hands into her hair.


End file.
